


Autopoiesis

by Anna_Hopkins



Series: Discord Prompt Fills [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (except it doesn't fix anything), Dark Harry Potter, Gen, Horcrux Shenanigans, Horcruxes, I don't want to spoil with more tags but, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Might write more of this someday but idk, Murder, Not Really Character Death, Oneshot, Plot Bunny, Selfcest, Time Loop, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Trope Subversion/Inversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 22:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Hopkins/pseuds/Anna_Hopkins
Summary: autopoiesis. (from Greek, Modern αὐτo- (auto-), meaning 'self', and ποίησις (poiesis), meaning 'creation, production') refers to a system capable of reproducing and maintaining itself.Harry James Potter goes back in time to kill Tom Marvolo Riddle. For once, he actually does it.(It's really too bad, what happens next.)





	Autopoiesis

**Author's Note:**

> (This plot bunny inspired by my own prompt on the Tomarrymort Discord.)

In the age-old image of the Ouroboros lies the thought of devouring oneself and turning oneself into a circulatory process,  
for it was clear to the more astute alchemists that the _prima materia_ of the art was man himself.  
The Ouroboros is a dramatic symbol for the integration and assimilation of the opposite, i.e. of the shadow.  
This 'feed-back' process is at the same time a symbol of immortality, since it is said of the Ouroboros that he slays himself and brings himself to life...  
\- Carl Jung.

 

On paper, their plan was a neat, straightforward thing. The Order had been researching this for years; the plan itself had existed in its current form for at least half that time. And now, on July 30th, 1996, Harry was about to complete their work.

In compliance with the prophecy, Harry would use a modified Time-Turner to go to June 3rd, 1942 for three hours. He would kill Tom Riddle, with any method he desired; confirm it was fatal; and return to the present when the three hours ran out. The artifact, on its spindly gold chain, was already calibrated for both the backward and forward trips.

The research groups among the Order had already determined this would work to bring Harry back to a Voldemort-free world, with smaller tests against rats and plants. Both theoretically and practically, this was considered seamless.

So, at precisely eight forty-five p.m., July 30th, 1996, Harry Potter activated the Time-Turner in the hidden passage between Hogwarts and Honeydukes, armed with a few Muggle-made knives, a vial of acid, and his wand. He stayed under the Invisibility Cloak, using the Marauders’ Map to track Tom Riddle into a lonely dungeon corridor. The boy didn’t sense his presence at all.

There was no need for mental acrobatics to justify what he was about to do. Harry remained silent as he Stunned Riddle from beneath the Cloak, locked the door, and took a knife from his belt. The Stunning Spell wore off just as he slit Riddle’s throat; impassively, Harry watched the blood gush from the deep wound, mentally ticking down the minutes until his Time-Turner reactivated.

With a last gurgle, Riddle’s body seized up and relaxed into death, releasing its bowels. Harry was not unfamiliar with this moment; he’d seen it happen often enough to animals, over the years. (Dudley was more destructive than the Dursleys knew.) What Harry  _ was _ unfamiliar with, though, was the wave of euphoria that came over him the moment he was sure Riddle was dead.

 

He repressed a smirk. The wizard who had killed his family, dead. And Harry had been the one to kill him. What was it? Revenge is sweet? Harry giggled out loud, feeling another tingle over his skin, lingering in his scar. Bloody hell, this was  _ nice _ . This was  _ great _ . Was it the prophecy’s magic, rewarding him for completing it? He shuddered, rolling his shoulders.

A warm buzz was filling his ears. Harry stepped closer, sweeping the Cloak off so it wouldn’t get stained by Riddle’s blood, and reached out to tap the body on the cheek. “Good night, Voldemort,” he laughed, and leaned in to kiss him on the brow. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.  _ Ha _ !”

One minute till he was sent back. According to the Order’s research, when he returned to his future, the Voldemort of his world would simply be dead. The repercussions of this death would go on to some other parallel universe -- not Harry’s world, not Harry’s problem. Maybe there wouldn’t be another Dark Lord there. Who knows? He was just happy his world was safe. So happy…

He sagged against the stone wall, tugging the Cloak back over him, checking all his stuff was back where it belonged.

Thirty seconds. Harry swallowed against a tightness building in his throat. The euphoria was wearing off; he was feeling a bit nervous going back to see the future, is all.

Twenty seconds. He coughed, feeling suddenly exhausted. His chest was a bit sore. Was the Time-Turner draining him to go back? The Order hadn’t gotten into enough detail about that, he realized.

Ten seconds. Harry rubbed at his chest, feeling the soreness subside. It was like...muscle pain. Okay. He breathed out, slowly.

Five seconds. A brightening green glow around the body brought Harry’s eyes up from the floor.

Three seconds. The body flinched violently. What was happening?

Two seconds. He gasped, seeing the wound in Riddle’s neck close. What --?

Harry James Potter returned to 1996 in a flash of green light before he could voice his confusion, eyes wide in alarm.

Another Harry Potter, of a sort, flinched awake in a flash of light to find himself sprawled uncomfortably on a cold, sticky floor. His head hurt, more than usual. His...his  _ throat _ hurt.

_ Wait _ .

(Oh, no.)


End file.
